Watching Your Back
by wingedflower
Summary: The team saves Lance from the Galra's captivity, but things are far from being right. Hunk is determined to fix that.


**Takes place around season two.**

 **Warnings: some graphic descriptions of injury, blood and gore. Also, a shitload of made-up science. Like, I think I outdid myself with the amounts of scientific rubbish I put in here. But hey, the show itself doesn't make a lot of sense in this regard, so I guess it's okay?**

 **Thank the lovely IcyPanther who helped proofing the first part of this fic! You have saved my ass, girl.**

* * *

 _Drip._

 _Drip._

The slow trickle of fluids from the IV bag into Lance's left arm was the only sound in the dark med bay, which was merely lit by a few emergency lights. The low, mechanical buzz that usually thrummed through the walls of the large room was absent as the new crystal had not finished loading yet, forcing the castle to shut down almost completely. It was currently running on a few emergency systems – only those required for keeping the oxygen flowing and such.

Coran had said it would take about a varga for the castle to be fully functional again, perhaps a varga and a half at most. It wasn't a long time – not when you floated through empty space for what felt like eternity and fought in battles that sometimes lasted a couple of days.

But as Hunk sat in the silent infirmary, having nothing to do except watch Lance and listen to his breaths, time seemed to stretch like the food goo slime Hunk had accidently made when he was trying to make cookie dough during their first days at the castle. And while he _knew_ it was highly unlikely Lance was going to stop breathing, he couldn't shake the feeling he was going to and spent far more energy into listening and watching than the situation warranted.

He glanced at Lance's back for about the hundredth time. Yes, it still rose and fell with every breath the paladin took, slow and steady. It would have looked like he was simply sleeping peacefully if it weren't for the thick, yellow paste that covered every inch from the nape of his neck to his lower hips, hiding from view the horror that existed below.

Hunk winced at the memory and turned to look again at Lance's face, which was turned in his direction as the paladin was currently lying on his stomach. His eyes were shut, although his lashes flattered from time to time and his brow was slightly furrowed, proof that whatever happened at the Galra captivity was still haunting him, despite the sedative Coran had applied into his IV.

Hunk sighed. They still had no idea what exactly had turned Lance's back into… _this_ , but whatever it was, it was _not_ be good.

Honestly, he was glad he wasn't the one who had found Lance when they fought to get to him on that Galra ship, where Lance had been taken prisoner three quintants ago. Hunk's stomach contracted in horror and shame every time he thought of that day – even now, when they already had Lance back and safe at the castle.

Their goal had been to free the prisoners who had boarded the ship before the Galra had the chance to transfer them to labor camps. But the battle had been harder than they had expected – the Galra simply had too many battle cruisers for their lions to get close enough; they couldn't even form Voltron with so many ships shooting at them and blocking their way. Eventually Shiro had made the anguished call to retreat and the paladins had pulled back, too beaten and exhausted to argue.

All except for Lance.

The blue paladin had insisted he had to keep trying, he could not abandon the prisoners who were so desperate for freedom. Ignoring the team's yelling and warnings, he and the blue lion had somehow managed to clear a path. They had been about to use Blue's ice beam to freeze the ship in place when they took a direct hit from the ship's ion canon (whose existence was _not_ specified in their intel). Before anyone could even scream Lance's name they were both gone – along with all of the enemy's ships.

It had taken the team three whole quintants to locate the ship again and come up with a rescue plan. Three long, agonizing quintants, during which anything could happen to their friend.

So when Shiro had barked into the comms that he had Lance – almost at the same moment Allura announced she had broken into the hangar Blue was being kept in and was ready to fly her out in a dobash – Hunk could not be more relieved. The rescue had been successful. Soon he would see Lance again and give him a bone-crushing hug and scream at him to _never_ pull such a stunt again.

But just when everything seemed about to go perfectly…

So many things went wrong.

First, the Galra had managed to shoot their ion canon one last time before the castle wormholed its way out. Even though Allura had managed to complete the jump the castle had still taken a hit before the portal closed – a hit that had sent them into a sickening spiraling until the wormhole finally spat them out.

They had been left floating in the middle of a desolate galaxy with a completely dysfunctional castle, as the crystal operating it was all but destroyed by the combination of the blast and wormhole jump. Luckily, they had a spare crystal stored in a safe place – after the mess with Sendak they had decided not to take any more chances – but Coran had said it would take at least a varga to load, leaving them and the lions completely vulnerable. They could only pray there weren't any hostile elements in this godforsaken part of space.

And second, when Hunk had come running with the others to the black lion's hangar to greet Shiro and Lance – arms already spread and ready for the hug of a lifetime – he had to stop at once when Shiro walked down the lion's ramp, Lance draped over his shoulders in a fireman carry, and knelt on one knee so they could all get a better look of the blue paladin's form.

Hunk wished he never looked down.

Lance's back was a mess of open gashes and lacerations, crisscrossing his entire upper body from his neck and shoulders all the way down to his thighs like some kind of grotesque painting. All of the wounds seemed rather fresh as they were still bleeding sluggishly, although some of them had already reached the point of oozing pus, the skin around them – and there was so little of that left – swollen and tinted purple. His prisoner shirt was completely destroyed save for a few torn pieces of cloth that clung into his back, staying in place only thanks to the stickiness of blood.

Hunk's stomach heaved and he was more than ready to leave the contents of his breakfast on the floor when Lance whimpered, a sound so weak it was barely audible, but it was a sign that he was still conscious and in a lot of pain and Hunk would absolutely _not_ allow himself to puke until they fixed that.

Unfortunately, the cryopods were not operational yet due to the crystal malfunction and there wasn't much they could do to treat the wounds during the short wait. Stitching the largest gashes would only inflict more pain on Lance, and the bleeding wasn't severe enough to justify such action considering he would be put in a pod in only a varga or so.

The best thing to do, according to Coran, would be to clean the wounds – they were too fresh to be severely infected, but keeping them clean would make the pod's job easier – and then cover them in an Altean ointment that should both close them up and elevate some of the pain. Bandages were out of the question as by the time they finished wrapping those around his torso they would have to be removed again for the pod. Coran also advised fixing Lance with some fluids as the boy was clearly dehydrated, judging by his white, cracked lips.

It all sounded like a reasonable plan, but Hunk was still glad Shiro was the one who had volunteered to assist Coran in the infirmary over himself. Although Lance seemed barely aware of his surroundings Hunk knew the moment they touched the first wound he'd wake up, and _not_ in a pleasant way. Hunk wanted so bad to be there for his friend, but he didn't trust himself, trust his stomach, to keep it together while witnessing that. And according to the light green shade of Keith and Pidge's faces once Coran finished talking, neither did they.

But he could sit and watch Lance after the ordeal was done. Somebody had to do it while the rest stood guard for any surprise attacks as the castle's defenses were down, or helped fixing some of the less serious damage the ion canon had caused. Hunk knew his physical strength could be of use in that task, but he simply couldn't bring himself to leave Lance alone.

The others understood though, as they all shared the same foreboding feeling, the same icy fear that had settled in the pits of their stomachs and that nobody had dared to voice out loud, even though everybody knew exactly what it was about.

The wounds on Lance's back were not battle scars. There was no mistaking it. Lance had clearly been tortured or punished by the Galra for God only knows what crime. But what could he have possibly done that had infuriated them so much they had practically torn his back open?

Hunk looked again at Lance's back, hidden beneath the paste. He couldn't even begin to imagine what had been the motivation to cause such damage.

His brain though was more than happy to dissect the possibilities.

Had they interrogated him and decided to whip him once he refused to disclose any piece of information? Had it been for sport? Revenge? And how come all the wounds seemed to have been created at the same time? How cruel exactly were the Galra to cause all this damage in one time?

Hunk shuddered.

What the quiznack had happened on that ship?

His mind kept running all kinds of dark scenarios when suddenly he heard a quiet sniffle. It took him a moment to realize the sound was coming from Lance.

"Lance?" he asked carefully. Lance's eyes were half-open now, pale and tired red-rimmed. He sniffled again in response to Hunk's voice, lips tightening as if attempting to hold back a sob or cry of pain.

"Hey, buddy, are you okay?" Hunk got up from his chair and approached the bed. The sedative was supposed to keep Lance asleep until the pods were back online. "Does anything hurt? Do you want me to call Coran?"

Lance sighed and shook his head – or at least tried to, considering the position he was lying in. "I'm fine," he muttered.

Hunk thought humorlessly that the whole situation was far from 'fine'. "Then what's wrong?" he persisted gently. "You're clearly upset."

Lance's jaw twisted. "I ruined everything," he said in a strained voice.

Hunk had no idea what he was talking about, but that didn't stop his chest from tightening in discomfort. "You didn't ruin anything," he said, hoping he sounded convincing. "We're all okay, and the lions are okay too; yes, the castle's a little banged up but the spare crystal should finish loading real soon and everything will be back to normal."

Lance groaned in frustration and clenched the sheet with his fist, wincing as the movement jostled his upper arm that was covered by ointment as well. "You don't understand," he said. "I… I _really_ messed up. I'm so _stupid._ "

"You're not stupid," Hunk said firmly. "It's not your fault the Galra are… what they are. You just wanted to save the prisoners. _We_ are the ones who should have watched your back better." He flinched at the literal meaning of the last sentence. In other circumstances, he thought gloomily, it might have gotten a laugh from the blue paladin.

" _No._ " There was such resolution in that single word Hunk took an instinctive step backwards. Lance's eyes were fully open now and gazing straight at him, and the yellow paladin was startled by the amounts of pain and shame reflected in them. "These prisoners… they're in labor camp now because of _me._ I tried to save them, but I failed."

Hunk sank back in the chair. "What do you mean?" he whispered, dreading the answer.

Lance looked down again, as if ashamed of what he was about to say. "My cell was on a different floor from the rest of the prisoners," he said quietly. "In the first two days I was barely aware of what was happening on the ship; no one really talked to me, they just had the sentries bring me food and such. One time I heard one of the patrol guys say they were going to bring me straight to Zarkon, so there wasn't much they were supposed to do with me in the meantime."

Hunk swallowed, legs growing weak with a mixture of dread and relief. Had Zarkon captured Lance before the paladins rescued him… he couldn't even fathom the consequences. The wounds on Lance's back would have looked like a scratch on the knee compared to what Zarkon and his army of druids were capable of.

"But then, on the third day…" Lance inhaled shakily, bruised shoulders tensing. "The commander of the ship suddenly came to my cell. His name was… Orlak." A shiver wrecked his body at the mention of the name. "He said they've reached the labor camp and were going to move the prisoners to the supply pod… and they wanted me to watch.

"So I went with him. They made me stand on the bridge above the main deck and look how they shove the prisoners into this tiny pod like they were c-cattle or something." His eyes shimmered. "And I just… I couldn't let this happen. I couldn't just stand there and do nothing. There were _children_ there, Hunk; they wouldn't survive one week in that place.

"I managed to snatch a gun from one of the sentries. I… I'm not sure how, but somehow I made it down to deck, where the pod was already ready for launch. There was a control panel on one of the walls, and I knew if I could only shut it down I could lock the doors and buy us a couple more minutes." Lance sighed again. "Plan of the year, huh?"

Hunk let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding until now. He didn't like where this was going at all.

Lance cleared his throat. "Anyway, I was just about to shoot the control panel when – when Orlak got me. He had this nasty-looking taser thing, kind of like Pidge's bayard." He smiled bitterly. "He could've probably used it way earlier, but I guess letting me _almost_ make it was more hilarious."

Oh God. The Galra's cruelty truly knew no limits. Hunk felt sick for the second time today, but forced himself to keep it down and let Lance finish.

Lance's hand fisted around the sheet again as if he was trying to draw from it the power to continue. "And then he…" he paused, breathing deeply. "He said they couldn't k-kill me until we reached Zarkon, but that I should still get punished for my obedience." His face scrunched up. "That jerk probably planned everything so he could get an excuse to beat me up."

There was nothing Hunk wanted more in that moment than to cover his ears and not hear the rest of the story. But he pushed that will aside, knowing that Lance was the one who needed the support right now.

"They tied me to this – to this pole," Lance's voice was barely a whisper now, and he seemed to be struggling for every word. "And – and then Orlak said I should get a lash for every prisoner I was trying to free."

It took Hunk a few seconds to catch the meaning of Lance's words. Then, his mouth went terribly dried and his heart felt like it just fell to his guts.

He remembered how many prisoners were on that ship; they had all memorized the number while planning the initial attack, at the end of which Lance was captured.

There were forty-one prisoners on the Galra ship, destined to be sent to labor camp.

Which meant…

Lance had received forty-one lashes.

And judging by the freshness of the wounds, and the fact Lance has just told him it happened on the third day of his captivity, it happened merely a couple of vargas before the team got there.

Hunk wanted to break something. He dug his fingers into his palm so hard he could feel them draw blood, which was still nothing compared to what Lance has endured.

All because they hadn't come a few vargas earlier.

"Lance…" Hunk's voice faltered. What could he possibly say that would make things better? Any words of comfort he could think of sounded ridiculous, pointless even.

Lance didn't seem to care though. Tears were streaming freely down his cheeks now, dampening the pillow. "I – I'm pretty sure I fainted at some point," he choked out, "Because when I woke up… they were already gone. I wasn't able to save them." He buried his face in his palms. "We're supposed to _protect_ people, Hunk. How am I supposed to be a paladin if I can't do even that?"

Hunk had known Lance for a couple of years now – since they became roommates on their first day at the Garrison. They have always been there for each other, went together through ups and downs, through successes and shattered hopes. Hunk was used to comfort Lance after a failed exam or a simulator gone wrong; to give him a shoulder to cry on after a pretty girl had rejected him or when he got homesick and it was all just a little too much; and no matter how bad Lance was hurting, his cheerful self would always quickly bounce back because that was who Lance was – happy and optimistic and caring and never the one to hold a grudge or dwell on things for too long (well, except for the whole "rivalry" thing with Keith, but Hunk was sure Lance was only doing that to get the older boy's attention as he couldn't think of any other way to get close to him).

But this… this was not about a bad date or getting detention from Iverson. Hunk couldn't simply tell Lance it was "going to be okay" or offer him a hug (especially not now, considering his physical state). Lance has been _tortured_ , and all he cared about was his failure to protect a group of prisoners. Despite the unimaginable pain he had experienced, he was still feeling guilty for something he had no control of in the first place.

How were you supposed to comfort someone after _that?_

He was still looking for the right words when the med bay's door opened and Coran stepped in. "Just wanted to check how Number Three is doing," he said lightly, but stopped in his tracks when he realized Lance's trembling and silently crying figure. The advisor's forehead wrinkled in concern. "What happened?" he demanded. "Is Number Three in pain again?"

"Um… not exactly." Hunk wasn't sure Lance was ready to share his story with another person yet.

Coran raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything the large room suddenly came to life as the bright blue lights were back on and the cryopods hummed loudly as they re-started themselves.

"Would you look at that," Coran said, clapping his hands in satisfaction. "It seems like the new crystal had just finished loading. I must admit it happened sooner than I had expected."

Hunk breathed in relief. Finally, something good happened today.

Coran approached the bed and hunched over Lance, who still had his face hidden in the pillow. "Lance?" he said in a much gentler tone. "The pods are back online and we can finally transfer you into one. You shall feel better in no time. Would that be alright?"

Lance nodded weakly without looking at them.

Coran turned to Hunk. "Number Two, would you like to assist?"

"Of course."

Fortunately, they didn't have to scrub the ointment off Lance's back as it would dissolve on its own once encountered by the pod. Hunk sent a silent gratitude to whoever god was responsible for this part of the universe. They ditched the cryosuit as manhandling Lance into it would only stretch and pull at the ruined skin and inflict unnecessary pain.

Once Lance was safely tucked in the pod Coran set about starting the healing process, muttering and humming to himself. "A little less than a quintant," he announced eventually.

"Will… will they scar?" Hunk asked hesitantly. He knew how conscious Lance was about his looks, and how devastated he would be once he learned the hell he's been through has left a permanent mark on his body.

Coran sighed, the edges of his moustache drooping a bit. "Hard to say," he said. "On the one hand, the wounds are quite new and uninfected, which makes it easier for the pod to patch back the skin. On the other hand, some of the lacerations are rather deep… I can't make an accurate prediction. We will just have to wait and hope that if there is indeed scarring, it will be as unnoticeable as possible."

Hunk stared at the ground. He assumed this was sort of good news.

Coran then waved the pod's control screen away and turned to face Hunk. "Now that Number Three is asleep and recovering, could you please tell me what was it that upset him so much?"

Hunk wrung his hands nervously. He didn't feel comfortable repeating the details to Coran without Lance's approval.

However, he assumed this would have to be revealed at some point _._ Lance couldn't keep such a terrible secret to himself for too long; it would only eat him from the inside until he collapsed at some point. That's what Hunk's mom had always told him about those things, anyway.

Secondly, Coran was one of the smartest people Hunk has ever known. He hadn't been a royal advisor for nothing; perhaps he'd have an idea how to make things right, because they _had_ to make them right. Not only for these poor prisoners, but for Lance as well.

And finally, Hunk had always been terrible at keeping secrets. It gave him heartburns.

Coran's frown deepened more and more as Hunk progressed with the story. Once he was finished, the advisor's face was filled with so much rage they nearly matched the color of his moustache.

"Those Galra bastards," Coran hissed, releasing a stream of what could only be Altean curse words. Hunk felt his face warm up. He'd never seen Coran so agitated, perhaps except for the time he had the Slipperies and they all nearly died because of the teleduv they'd improvised from Hunk's cookies.

"Is there anything we could do?" Hunk asked. "I just… I don't want Lance to have suffered so much for nothing."

"Of course not." Coran raised a thumb to his chin thoughtfully. "But I'm afraid the ship had changed its route after capturing the blue lion, as the records we have from its original destination do not mention receiving any shipment of prisoners in the last quintant. They must have been sent to another camp."

And that would be noted in the ship's records, to which the paladins had no access, as in the rush to rescue Lance and Blue they hadn't had the time to download its history of recent locations. They only knew its whereabouts at the moment it was tracked by the castle – which was, according to Lance, a few vargas after it left camp.

Finding the location of the prisoners now seemed all but impossible. They could be literally anywhere in the universe.

Or, maybe not _anywhere_.

Hunk raised his head, dark chocolate eyes gazing at Coran in determination. "I think I have an idea."

-x-

At the end of the day, it was all a matter of calculation.

They might have not had access to the Galra ship's logbook, but they did have data regarding its speed, oxygen level, engine temperature and the like at the time it was tracked by the castle. Based on these data, they could assume with confidence the ship hadn't performed any wormhole jumps during the vargas prior to their encounter, meaning it had to be at the same portion of galaxy where the prisoners had been dropped at labor camp.

After reaching this conclusion, locating the camp within this particular area was a piece of cake. Once the scans revealed the exact location Pidge shrieked in excitement and threw herself on Hunk, saying he was an absolute genius for figuring that out; Shiro and Keith, on the other hand, exchanged confused looks as they clearly had no idea what had just happened, but they were happy nonetheless.

To their surprise, the camp was rather small – only two-hundred prisoners, guarded by about a dozen Galra soldiers who seemed to lack any battle cruisers or advanced security systems; they must have been confident no one would ever bother coming to this part of the universe. Taking over this place would require no more than one lion, and Pidge was more than happy to board all the prisoners on Green while the castle's canons destroyed the place and sent the Galra fleeing.

Luckily, all the prisoners seemed to be in good health considering the conditions of their captivity, and for the time being they all stayed in the castle's main hall until they were to return to their home planets. Hunk pretty much locked himself in the kitchen as two-hundred hungry aliens were not going to feed themselves, but he still kept an eye on the castle's clock, counting the vargas until Lance came out of the pod.

When Lance was finally out, he was extremely weak and disoriented. Hunk had to give him a piggyback ride to his room and barely managed to lower him to his bed before he fell asleep, completely dead to the world. As Hunk slid the pajama shirt over Lance's head, he risked a peek at his back and was relieved to see the mocha skin smooth and unblemished save for two long, thin scars – one stretched diagonally across his middle back and the other just above his left hip. Considering the severity of his injuries, it was a miracle he walked out of it with only these two marks. The Altean pods were truly incredible.

Lance slept for four vargas straight, then woke up to a steaming plate of Hunk's version of space vegetable soup waiting for him on the nightstand. He reached out for it, only then realizing the bigger boy sitting on a pile of pillows at the other side of the room. He shrieked and nearly dropped the plate.

" _Hunk!_ " Lance coughed, trying to get his breath under control. "Were you just watching me sleep?!"

Hunk looked at the ceiling, fiddling with his fingers. "Maybe. But only for the last ten minutes or so!"

Lance groaned. "Weirdo." He grabbed the plate and took a spoonful of the soup, sighing in content as the liquid slid down his dry throat. "But you're a weirdo who can cook, so I forgive you."

"Good." Hunk was so glad to see Lance acting like his normal self again. "By the way, I have a surprise for you once you finish eating."

Lance quirked an eyebrow. "A surprise?"

"Yes, and I can't tell you what it is because then it won't be a surprise anymore. But I promise you're going to like it."

Shortly after, when Lance was dressed in his everyday jeans and jacket, they both went down the stairs to the castle's main hall.

Lance's eyes widened at the massive crowd. "What… who are all these people?"

Hunk smiled. "What, are you telling me you don't recognize at least some of them?"

Before Lance could reply, an enthusiastic cry was heard from across the hall. "Look, everyone! It's the blue paladin of Voltron!"

The call was followed by a swarm of aliens surging through the hall and up the stairs in Lance's direction, murmuring excitedly and pushing each other to get as close to him as possible.

"What…" Lance looked as if he just saw a ghost. His expression was so priceless Hunk wished he had Pidge's camera with him. "How…"

"The other paladins of Voltron have stormed into the Galra's camp and freed us all," said one of the aliens, who had a deep voice and a long, purple beard that went all the way down to his knees. Hunk recognized him as one of the elders of the group that has been held on the same ship as Lance – the one they had originally planned to rescue. "But this does not mean we have forgotten your own act of bravery, blue paladin." He bowed down, beard brushing the floor. The other aliens rushed to follow through.

Nevertheless, instead of beaming with pride, Lance's shoulders sank and he looked away. "That's not true," he murmured. "I – I didn't really do anything. I wanted to help, but I failed. You guys were still sent to camp."

"The last part might be true," the old man said. "But even if your attempt to save us has failed, you still _tried_. You refused to stand aloof from such injustice and let the Galra take us, and that is more than most people would have done."

"And you suffered unfathomable pain as a result," an old woman, who was possibly the elder's wife, added solemnly. "You were willing to sacrifice your own wellbeing for the sake of our freedom, and that is something we will always cherish, blue paladin. We are so glad to see you are feeling better now."

And then Lance finally smiled. It was a shaky, wet smile as tears were rolling down his cheeks, but it was the first real smile Hunk saw on Lance's face since they got him back, and it was the most beautiful sight ever.

And it only got better when at some point, as the former prisoners took turns in shaking Lance's hand and some of the small children latched onto his legs, Pidge snuck out of nowhere with the much-needed camera and started taking one photo after the other, giving Hunk a thumbs-up when she caught his eye. Hunk grinned. Lance would definitely love these.

-x-

Later that day, when Hunk was at the kitchen baking yet another round of muffins, Lance walked in and settled on one of the counter chairs. "Hey."

"Oh, hey. Did you finally finish giving autographs to all of your new fans?" Hunk asked while shoving a large tray into the oven.

Lance snorted, leaning his chin on his palm. "I just talked to Pidge. She told me everything was your idea, so you might want to go out there and start giving autographs yourself."

"Who, me? Nah, I'm just a humble chef," Hunk joked as he started mixing batter for the next tray.

"Hunk." Lance said quietly, eyes full of meaning. "I'm serious. I… I don't even know how to thank you."

Hunk put down the bowl and spoon and stretched his back, cracking his neck several times. "You want to thank me? Then stop being so hard on yourself, man. You heard those people – we may be the ones who'd rescued them, but _you_ are their real hero. _You_ are the one who brought them all together." He reached out and patted Lance's shoulder with a flour-stained mitten. "Those two scars you've got? You should wear them with pride, not be ashamed of them."

Lance huffed out a laugh, eyes glistening again. "What did I ever do to have such an amazing friend?"

"Aww, stop that. You _know_ I'm going to burst into tears at some point."

As they sat there and kept bantering, Hunk felt how the last bits of anxiety that have been stubbornly clinging to his chest during the last couple of days melt away, as if he was standing in the sun. His friend has gone through a terrible experience, but as always, he came bouncing back, the love and gratitude from the people he'd met along the way filling him with newfound strength.

And although Hunk knew they still had a lot to do until the universe was free, he also knew that he would always have his friends' backs, just like they would have his. And with that knowledge, they could overcome anything.


End file.
